“Certainly, sir; I am Richard Lawrence.”
Mr. Mortimer started. He perceived that the man who spoke was in full possession of his reason, quite as sane as he himself. In former years he had been intimately acquainted with Dick Lawrence; the story of the “mysterious disappearance” was familiar to him; and he thought that at last the mystery was to be solved.
He seized Lawrence’s hand and shook it heartily.
“Don’t you remember me, old friend?” he said. “Don’t you remember when you beat me in that race, so long ago? And besides, we are almost related to each other; for, as you surely remember, your brother and I married sisters.”
A long conversation followed between the two reunited friends. The events of other years were spoken of with peculiar pleasure, and Mr. Mortimer told his friend what had been taking place in the world of late years.
“Well, now, I had almost forgotten!” Mr. Mortimer suddenly exclaimed. “Your nephew Will is in this very house! You will remember him as a very little boy; and now he is a—a—now he is a great big boy. I must bring him in immediately.”
He hurried out of the room and soon returned with Will, saying apologetically, “You must excuse me, Will, but when two old friends meet, they forget that there are boys still in the world, and remember only that they were once boys themselves.” Then to his guest: “Mr. Lawrence, I have the pleasure of introducing your nephew Will, who is on a visit to my son. I think it is safe to say that you owe your deliverance to these hare-brained youths. You will hear graphic particulars of it afterwards.”
A happy meeting took place between uncle and nephew, the former being highly pleased with his new-found kinsman.
“Yes,” Mr. Mortimer resumed, “this is your nephew Will; a fine little fellow, who had a strange interview with you last night. Have you any recollection of it?”